Hollywood Love Story
by LetTheRadioBreakTheSilence
Summary: Dean Parker, a professional athlete, meets out-of-control Miley, expecting a one night stand. But how will he deal with his growing feelings for her? Will he be able to save her from the downward spiral she is on? M for sex, drugs, language. REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Miley, I don't own Lilly, and I don't own any other characters from the show that I decide to stick in here (but I think those are going to be the only two.) I made up the rest of the characters and the hockey teams. I've never written about fake people before…back in the good ol' days of you could write about singers and athletes, so that is what I've always done. But I actually wanted to post something, so here it is. And I'm a big Miley fan, I'm not trying to portray her in a bad light, I just like to do things a little edgier.**

As he stepped into the club, he was overcome by the pulsing beat of the techno song. It took a moment for his eyes to focus in the mess of strobe and colored lighting. He took a shot of something off the tray of a passing waiter and threw his head back, letting the liquid slide down his throat. He surveyed the crowd, looking for the woman he was going to take home tonight.

"Her," Dean Parker said confidently, pointing to a beautiful, dark-haired girl who was leaning against the bar, laughing at something the bartender had said.

"Her?" his friend, Jordan Bagwell smirked. "Do you know who that is?"

_Doesn't matter_, Dean thought to himself. He had never had a problem getting any woman he wanted – that's how this "game" he and his friends played had started. Whenever they went clubbing, they would scan the crowd, looking for the hottest girl there; they each had to choose one in ten minutes, and try to take her home by the end of the night. There was no real prize, other than the respect of the guys in the locker room, but Dean was undefeated.

At 6'2", with his athletic, muscular build and shaggy dark hair, no woman dreamed of turning him down. He always had a five o'clock shadow, giving him a scruffy, rugged look that was irresistible. And, of course, he had the appeal of being a professional hockey player – named _Sexiest Athlete_ by several magazines since he had come to the NHL four years ago. He was now 23-years old, and well-known for his talent with his stick on _and _off the ice.

"No, who is she?" he asked. They had both signed with the Los Angeles Spartans the same season and become best friends.

"That's Miley Stewart," another of his teammates, Bryan Adler, told him, patting his friend on the back. "I think she's a little too wild even for you, Dean."

"Watch and learn, boys," he smiled, making his way towards the bar.

As he got closer to her, he recognized her. It was impossible not to know who Miley Stewart was – she'd been in the spotlight since she was fifteen. The second she'd turned eighteen, she moved to LA and fit right into the celebrity scene there. She was constantly on the cover of tabloid magazines for dating one guy or another and being seen partying with socialites. She had celebrated her 21st birthday a few weeks ago and, according to the gossip mags, the party had gotten totally out of control.

He sat down on the bar stool next to her. "Let me buy you a drink."

She looked at him, her sexy blue eyes looking him up and down. "I already have a drink."

"Let me buy you another one," he insisted.

She smiled at him mischievously. "Okay."

Dean waved the bartender over. "Rum and coke, and whatever she wants."

"I'll take another one of these," she said, holding up her martini glass full of pink liquid.

Dean slid some cash across the bar and took his drink. He studied Miley closely; there was something about her that made him edgy. He couldn't place his finger on it, but he quickly tried to push it out of his mind – no woman had ever thrown him off balance before, and he wasn't about to let her be the first.

"Come on," she ordered him, taking the second martini glass from the bartender. "Follow me."

He did, staying a few paces behind her to get a good look at her. She was petite, with curves in all the right places. She wore tight, black halter top and even tighter jeans, allowing him a very nice view as he followed her up the stairs to the VIP lounge.

"Miley!" a group of people shouted, happy to see her.

She sauntered towards them, a drink in both hand and sat down on a long leather couch that wrapped around three sides of a large glass table. She patted the area next to her, instructing him to sit down. He recognized some of her friends, mostly from television shows and movies they had been in. Some of the guys seemed to recognize him, too.

Brady Galveston, a man about Dean's age who starred in a new MTV reality show, slid a book over to them. Dean looked at it, assuming he was supposed to read the title, but was instead surprised to see white lines across it. Miley picked up a small straw and snorted the powder up her nose quickly. She handed it to him.

"Oh, no thanks," he shook his head.

She eyed him playfully; a look that made Dean's jeans feel a little tighter in the crotch. She had a mystery about her, and it turned him on. "Are you scared?"

"No," he replied defensively, snapping out of his thoughts. "I can't. I get drug-tested."

"Are you on probation or something?"

He shook his head. He was surprised at the realization he had just had – she didn't know who he was. "No…I'm a hockey player…I play for the Spartans."

"What's your name?" she asked, leaning back and taking a sip from her drink.

"Dean Parker."

Miley seemed to search her mind, trying to figure out if she had heard of him before. Apparently she hadn't, because after a moment she just shrugged and took another line of the cocaine.

"You're cute," she said blatantly, touching his face gently.

Dean took a slow, deep breath, trying to control all the urges he was having at that moment. His mind flooded with images of her soft skin underneath those clothes, her long hair spread out across his pillows, her sexy voice screaming his name…

"You're pretty damn cute, too," he replied, trying to keep his voice calm.

She stood up abruptly, walking towards the door. His heart dropped; _was that the wrong thing to say?_ he wondered.

She stopped and looked over her shoulder, smiling at him seductively. "So, what are you gonna do about it?"

His eyes lit up excitedly. He stood up quickly, following her down the stairs back to the dance floor, passed the bar, and out the doors to the busy LA street.


	2. Chapter 2

Miley looked at Dean as she pushed open the door to her penthouse. It was only a block away from the club, so they had walked. "You look nervous."

He _was _nervous. Jordan had been right – he'd never pursued a girl as "wild" as Miley. He usually went for girls that he could, as he and his friends liked to say, "Fuck and forget." But he had a feeling that Miley would not be this way; if anything, she was probably more likely to be the one forgetting.

The drugs had also made him uncomfortable. If his coach found out that he had put himself in that situation, he would be pissed. Coach constantly reminded the team that, even in a city with as much temptation as LA, everything they did reflected on the team. But he couldn't let her know that he was nervous. He cursed himself for letting it show on his face.

"You look sexy," he replied, pinning her against the door.

He snaked one hand around her waist and let it settle on her lower back. With his other hand on the back of her neck, he kissed her passionately. He probed her lips with his tongue, and she immediately granted him access. He explored her mouth excitedly; she tasted so sweet.

He could feel the bulge in his jeans growing larger, and he pressed up against her so that she could feel it, too. She slid her hands down his chest and abdomen, resting them on his belt.

She broke the kiss and stared him dead in the eyes, that sexy smile spreading across her face slowly. "Fuck me."

Dean was taken aback by her forwardness; he had assumed that was where the night was going, but no woman had ever been so dominate with him before. However, he couldn't pretend that it wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear. She began to walk towards the bedroom, and he followed quickly, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. He had unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans by the time they got to the bedroom. Before she could turn around to face him, he slid one finger inside her, surprising her. She moaned softly as he added a second finger, moving them in and out of her.

Dean turned her around and slid her jeans and black, silk panties to the floor. He kissed a trail up her inner thigh to her heat, forcing her to sit down on the end of the bed for fear of her knees giving out. He licked her playfully, tracing her folds with his tongue. She lied down, running her fingers through his hair. He probed his tongue inside her, exploring until he knew she was close. He crawled onto the bed with her and she scooted up towards the headboard so they could lie down completely. Dean could see her erect nipples poking through her halter top; it nearly sent him over the edge.

Miley unbuttoned his shirt furiously, pushing it down his arms and to the floor. He untied her halter top and pulled it down, exposing her breasts. He flicked her nipple with his tongue, massaging the other with his hand. She sighed with pleasure.

To his surprise, she pushed him off of her and onto his back. Climbing on top of him, she undid his belt and worked his pants and boxers down to his knees; he kicked them off the rest of the way. She was noticeably pleased by what she saw, but decided to tease him for a little while. Miley bit his neck, much harder than he was used to, but the twinge of pain only made him harder. She playfully hovered her heat above the head of his penis, causing him to push his hips up to try to enter her, but she eluded him each time.

"Baby," he whispered in a tone that begged her for release.

She slid down his shaft until he was entirely inside her. She moved her hips back and forth slowly, then in circles; he groaned, sinking his fingernails into her ass to try to get her to increase the speed. She obliged happily. He ran his hands over her hips and to her breasts, massaging them tenderly.

He was close to climaxing, and he could tell that she was, too. He flipped her onto her back and thrust into her, hard, causing her to scream with pleasure. He moved in and out of her slowly, until she begged for him to go faster. As she peaked, she dug her fingernails into his back and scratched him so hard he thought he might bleed, but it only fueled his desire for her. He pulled out quickly, cuming on her stomach.

He collapsed beside her, exhausted, and watched her breasts rise and fall with every labored breath.

"Damn," he whispered, completely satisfied.

She giggled. "You can say that again."

A wicked smile crept across his face. "Speaking of 'again'…"

Before he could finish, she was making a trail of kisses down his abdomen towards his shaft.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean's eyes fluttered open slowly. He looked down at the beautiful girl entwined in his arms, asleep, and vivid thoughts of the night before flooded his memory. He looked towards the clock.

"Shit," he cursed, trying to remove his arm from underneath Miley without waking her; it didn't work. "I'm sorry, I was trying not to wake you…I'm late for practice."

"Okay," she said quietly, still mostly asleep. She shut her eyes again.

After Dean had finished finding his clothes from last night and putting them back on, he sat next to her on the bed and touched her face gently. "Hey…can I see you again?"

He had never asked that before. The fact that those words had just slipped from his lips scared him. He couldn't figure out why she was having this affect on him; he didn't even know her. And what he did know – the partying and drug use – he didn't like very much. But there was something about her…

"Um, my friend's having a party on Friday. You can pick me up here at nine," she muttered, opening her eyes just slightly.

She looked so beautiful with her long, dark curls framing her face. He kissed her, not wanting it to end; Friday almost a full week away, so this kiss had to count. "I can't wait."

She mumbled something he didn't understand, opening the nightstand drawer and feeling around in it blindly. She retrieved a notepad and a pen and scribbled something down quickly, ripping off the piece of paper and handing it to him before closing her eyes again and rolling over.

Dean looked at the piece of paper and grinned; it read _555-312-4635._ As he quietly left the room, he took out his cell phone and programmed her number.

Once he emerged from the building, he quickly hailed a cab and directed them to the arena. It wasn't far, and he arrived in a matter of minutes. He raced into the locker room, where most of his teammates already had their gear on, and pulled his shirt off quickly.

"Damn, Parker!" Jordan shouted with amusement when he saw the deep scratches on Dean's back. "I guess I don't have how _your_ night was."

"Fuck off," Dean grinned, pulling his under-armor over his head.


	4. Chapter 4

The past week had been the longest of Dean's life. He hadn't been sleeping well – every time he closed his eyes, he pictured Miley's naked body next to his, and any chance he had of falling asleep was gone. He hadn't been able to concentrate at practice, and it hadn't gone unnoticed by his coach. He just couldn't get her out of his head; he'd even resorted to watching the E! Channel every night, just to catch a glimpse of her. So many times he'd stared at her number in his cell phone, angry with himself for not having the guts to just call her. He'd typed out countless text messages, but never sent them.

He couldn't stand it; no girl had ever made him so…infatuated. Half of him wanted to stand her up on Friday, to prove to himself that he was, and always would be, a one-night-stand kind of guy. But as she opened the door after hearing him knock, he was glad he hadn't.

Miley looked amazing. Half of her long, curly hair was pulled back, and the rest fell freely down her back. She was wearing a silver tank top, which reminded him of a disco ball, with matching silver shoes, and a dark, denim, mini skirt.

"Wow," he smiled, focusing in on her dark red lipstick. _Would it be okay if I kissed her?_ he wondered.

"Hey," she said, opening the door further so he could come in. "It's Dan, right?"

Her question hit him like a ton of bricks. He tried to hide the utter disappointment he felt. He hadn't been able to think of anything but her for a week, and she didn't even remember his name? What else about that night did she forget? "No…it's Dean."

"Oh, okay," she muttered, shuffling through her purse to make sure she wasn't missing anything. "Ready?"

"Yeah," he replied.

They headed out into the hallway and she locked the door behind her, dropping the key into her purse before stepping into the elevator.

"Where are we going, exactly?" he asked.

"Sunset," she told him. "My friend Jamal just bought a new loft and he wanted to have a house warming party."

Dean could only imagine what a house warming party with Miley's friends would entail. Whatever happened between them tonight, he wanted her to be sober enough to remember.

He must have looked anxious, because Miley came over to him and gave him that smile he knew meant she was going to get him into trouble. She began kissing his neck, at the same time undoing his belt.

"Miley," he whispered hoarsely; he thought this was a bad idea, but at the same time couldn't deny the growing bulge in his pants. "We're in an elevator. Someone could…"

"Are you scared?" she asked him playfully, hands resting on the waistline of his jeans.

"No, it's just that…"

She interrupted him. "Has anyone ever told you that you're really uptight?"

She made it sound like that was the worst thing a person could be. He had to show her that he was the opposite; that he could be wild like her. Against his better judgment, he hit the "stop" button on the panel of buttons and unzipped his pants. He lifted her petite frame up so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. Backing her up against a corner of the elevator, he moved his hand up her thigh and underneath her skirt, pushing her silky crotch of her underwear to the side. He kissed her furiously and thrust deep inside her. She moaned, biting his bottom lip softly.

Dean had to admit, if only to himself, that driving into her in a semi-public place was exciting him. That was a good thing, he thought, since this would have to be quick; people would notice if the elevator stopped working for longer than few minutes.

"Faster," she whispered, nibbling on his earlobe.

He increased his speed, close to climax. She screamed with pleasure, letting him know that she had peaked. He met her lips with his again, kissing her passionately, as he pulled out to cum. He set her back down on her feet, giving her a triumphant look having proven he wasn't afraid. She smiled mischievously, having gotten exactly what she wanted. He had a feeling she never had trouble getting what she wanted.

He hit the "stop" button again and the elevator jerked, continuing its path to the first floor. He leaned back against the wall, catching his breath, when something caught his eye.

"Miley…there are cameras in here," he said, trying to keep his voice calm so as not to panic her.

A large grin spread across her face. She winked at him. "I know."

Dean stared at her blankly for a moment, and then started laughing. He didn't know what else to do. "You're fucking crazy."

She got very close to him, her body almost touching his, and smiled up at him. "How does that make you feel?"

"Uneasy," he admitted, looking into her eyes as though it might cause him to suddenly understand her; it didn't. "But in a good way, I think."

The elevator doors opened at the first floor. She winked at him and walked out the doors. He followed, trying to wrap his mind around this girl. She wasn't like anyone else he had ever met; impulsive, risky, and carefree. She wasn't safe about anything; drinking, drugs, sex…he knew he probably wasn't the only guy she'd taken home without even learning his name, though he didn't want to think about that. He didn't like girls like that, and he never had. She was just what the tabloids said she was – a train wreck waiting to happen. But for some reason, he wanted to know her…to understand her.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean looked around the room; he had been talking to Ben Marshall, an actor and avid hockey fan, and he had lost sight of Miley.

"Excuse me," he smiled, walking into the next room.

He looked around for her dark, curly hair, but she wasn't there. He saw her friend Lilly come inside through a sliding glass door that led to the balcony. She had been with Lilly earlier, so he made his way across the room. He slid the door open, stepping out onto the balcony.

"Oh my God, Miley," he said, panicked, running towards her.

He knelt down next to her, touching her face gently; she had passed out. Two of her friends were also kneeling next to her. He took his cell phone out of his pocket urgently to call 9-1-1, but they stopped him.

"She'll be fine in a few minutes," they assured him. "She just never knows when to stop. Lilly went to get a cool washcloth."

"What did she take?" he asked, never taking her eyes off of her.

"Oh, the usual," the blonde girl said. She sounded annoyed, making it obvious to him that this was a regular occurrence.

Lilly returned to the porch with a wet washcloth. He took it from her, blotting her face and neck with it. Miley's eyes flickered open.

"Hey," he smiled. "How do you feel?"

"I'm okay," she promised weakly. "I just have a headache."

"I'm taking you home."

She nodded. Dean tried to pull her to her feet, but she stumbled backwards. He caught her and swept her up in his arms.

"You're coming home with me," he told her, taking her back inside. "I'm not leaving you alone like this."

Miley nodded again, burying her head in his chest. He pushed the door open and stepped onto the elevator. He stroked her hair gently, a million things going through his mind; the most disturbing of which was how quickly he was coming to care for her. If this had happened with any other girl, he probably would have sent her home with one of her friends. With Miley, he wanted to take care of her; and he hoped that tomorrow she remembered that he had.

He pushed the thoughts out of his head as the elevator doors opened. Whatever he was feeling towards her, it was probably nothing. He wasn't the kind of guy who got into relationships. The doorman opened the door for them and he stepped outside.

"Miley!" a dozen paparazzi shouted at once.

"Shit," he murmured, trying to hide her face from the cameras.

He pushed his way through them to his black Nissan Xterra, opening the passenger side door and setting her inside gently. He jogged around the front of the SUV to the driver's side and got in quickly, jamming the keys into the ignition and pulling out onto the road.

The last thing either of them needed was those pictures on the internet. They would just confirm all the rumors going on about her, and if his coach saw them he would be in all sorts of trouble. He knew that she was used to having the paparazzi follow her everywhere, but he wasn't. He had a feeling if he was going to spend any more time with her, especially now that there were pictures of them together, he was going to have to get used to it very quickly.

"Come on," he said quietly, picking her up and lifting her out of the car.

He kicked the door closed behind him and took her up the steps to his apartment. He unlocked the door quickly, carrying her into his large bedroom and lying her down on the bed gently.

He dug through one of his dresser drawers and handed her one of his tee shirts. "Here, you can sleep in this if you want."

"Thank you," she replied quietly. "For everything, Dean. You're really sweet."

He shoved his hands in his pockets nervously. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course."

He took a moment to decide the best way of asking the question, but there wasn't really any good way. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

Miley glanced away from him uncomfortably. She thought for a minute before answering. "I guess…"

"What?" he asked when she trailed off.

"It's gonna sound stupid to you."

"Try me," he replied, sitting next to her on the bed.

She sighed. "I guess I just feel like there's a piece of me that's missing."

He was confused. "And getting high fills it?"

"No," she shook her head. "It just makes me forget about it for awhile. I don't know. I have so many friends, so many fans…but I just feel really alone."

He nodded. He didn't know what to say, and he never knew how to handle emotional situations. "Okay. Goodnight."

Dean took one of the pillows from the bed and started to leave the room.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna sleep on the couch," he told her.

"Do you think you could stay with me?" she asked. "I don't feel so lonely when you're here."

His heart started beating a little faster. "Yeah, absolutely. I'm just going to brush my teeth."

He grabbed a pair of large, grey sweatpants from his dresser and disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned, Miley had changed out of her tank top and skirt and into his shirt, which was practically a dress on her petite frame. He climbed into bed next to her, moving around a couple pillows. Miley curled up in his arms and he held her next to his warm, shirtless body. She looked so small in his arms; it made him want to protect her from everything bad, from anything that could hurt her.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

"Goodnight," he replied, reaching over to the lamp on his bedside table and flicking it off.

He kissed the top of her head and drifted to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

"Miley, wake up."

Her eyes flickered open at the sound of his voice as he shook her gently. She looked at him groggily.

"Why are you wearing a suit?"

"I have a game today. We have to wear one," he told her. "I can take you home on the way."

"Can I come?" she asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes sleepily.

Dean pushed a strand of long, dark hair out of her face. "Come where?"

"To your game," Miley clarified. "I've never been to a hockey game."

He smiled. He had thought of asking her, but he didn't think she would be interested. He was also afraid that it was too much like something a couple would do. "Yeah, of course. I can get you in a box. I have to be there a couple hours early, so I'll drop you off at home so you can get ready."

She nodded. "What do people wear to hockey games?"

He laughed. "Um…"

Dean went to his dresser and pulled out a sweatshirt. Everyone on his team had the same one; green and white with the Spartan logo on the front, and their last name and number on the back. He handed it to her.

"Parker 44," she read the back. "I bet this is the one all the girls wear, isn't it?"

He grinned. "But you'll be the prettiest. Come on."

Miley slid her skirt on and changed back into her tank top. They headed to the door, but Dean stopped before he pushed it open.

"Are they always there?" he asked her, looking out at the paparazzi.

"Pretty much," she nodded. "Hope you like having your picture taken."

He pushed the door open and they moved towards the car quickly, ignoring the photographers. He opened the passenger's door for her before getting in on his own side. Within a few moments, they pulled up to her building.

"I'll see you after the game, right?" Miley asked him.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'll have someone come get you and bring you to me."

"Okay," she replied. She sounded distracted.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I'm leaving tomorrow for a couple weeks…I have to go promote my new album in Europe."

"Oh," he said, disappointed. "Okay…that sounds cool."

"I guess," she shrugged. "Anyways, I'll see you later."

"Yeah, definitely."

She started to open the door, but stopped. "Dean…thank you. For watching out for me last night."

"You're welcome."

She kissed his cheek and got out of the car, waving to him before she disappeared into the building.

He analyzed their conversation the whole way to the arena. She had seemed like she didn't want to leave; like she was disappointed to be away from him. Did that mean she wanted to be in a relationship? Is that what he wanted? Maybe he had read her tone wrong – maybe she didn't care about being away from him. Why did he care so much, anyways?

Dean tried to forget about her once he got into the locker room; the last thing he needed was to screw up in the middle of the game, especially while she was watching.

He dropped his bag on the bench in front of his locker and nodded a greeting at Jordan.

"Parker! Get in here!" his coach yelled from his office.

Dean looked toward his friend, puzzled; Jordan shrugged.

He walked into the small office. "What's up?"

"Sit down," his coach told him, waiting until he did to continue. "Is there anything you want to talk to me about?"

"Um…no?"

His coach looked at him skeptically. "Nothing you want to tell me? Nothing at all?"

"Um…no, nothing comes to mind…" Dean replied. "I'm confused…"

"Unfortunately for you, Parker, I have a seventeen-year old daughter. And she brought something to my attention," he said, turning his laptop so that Dean could see the screen.

Dean sighed when he saw it. There was a picture of him carrying Miley out of the party on . "I was totally sober. I just…"

"It's fine. This doesn't bother me," his coach said. Dean relaxed. "But this…"

He scrolled down the page to another entry; a video entry. Dean's jaw dropped. He cringed at the caption: "Slutty Stewart and hockey hottie Dean Parker got busy in the elevator. They couldn't even wait to make it to the room?? Who even knew they were a couple??"

"I may be old, but I've heard about her and her…lifestyle," his coach told him. "I can't tell you what to do, but I suggest that you take some time to think about who you're associating yourself with and how it reflects on you _and_ the team."

"Coach…" Dean rubbed his eyes; he couldn't believe this was happening. He didn't want to disrespect his coach, but not hanging out with Miley anymore? There was no way he could do that. "I'm sorry. I'm not going to stop seeing her."

His coach sighed, annoyed. "Fine. Then at least keep your hands to yourself when you're in public."

"I can do that," he promised. "And…um…she's coming here, today…to the game."

The older man gave him a look that said he had lost all his patience. "Call her and tell her to get here before the doors open. Someone can take her up to a box so nobody will see her."

"Okay, thanks," Dean replied, hurrying out of the office.

He sat down on a bench and leaned against his locker, horrified.

"What was that about?" Jordan asked, pulling on his shoulder pads.

Dean sighed. He would find out soon enough, so he might as well just tell him. "There's um…a video on the internet…"

"Of what?"

"Um…me…and Miley…"

His friend stared at him, confirming what he was thinking with his eyes. He started laughing hysterically. "You made a sex tape?"

The whole team heard him, and they were all staring at him.

"No! I didn't know there were security cameras…" Dean started, knowing he was going to get made fun of for the rest of his life. "…in the elevator."

"Damn, Parker!" Jordan said, unable to stop laughing. "I'm sorry I said you weren't wild enough for her!"

"Shut the fuck up," Dean scorned, but he smiled. He grabbed his cell phone and went into the hallway just outside the locker room.

"Hey, Miley?" he said when she picked up.

"Yeah, hey. What's up?"

"Can you get here at like, 1:30? My coach wants to get you in the box before the doors open, so people don't bother you."

"Yeah, sure," she replied.

"The, um, the video is on the internet," he told her. "Coach told me that I couldn't see you anymore."

"Oh…" Miley aid, disappointed.

"I said no. But I did agree to keep my hands to myself when there are people – or cameras – around."

She giggled. "Okay. I can live with that."


	7. Chapter 7

Dean rode the elevator up to Miley's penthouse. She had gotten home two days ago, but he had been in Florida for an away game. He had gotten ready quickly this morning to come over and surprise her, picking up some flowers on the way.

The two had talked constantly while she was in Europe; in his mind, her leaving was the best thing that could have happened. Sure, he had missed seeing her, but she was under tight supervision while she was overseas – meaning no drugs. It was amazing to talk to her when she was completely sober. She was so funny, so sweet. They talked about everything, and everything she told him about herself, her family, her past, her dreams, only made him like her more. He prayed that she felt the same way; he had told her things he'd never told anyone.

He knocked on her door, clearing his throat nervously.

"Dean! What…what are you doing here?" Miley said, surprised when she opened the door. She was still in her short, pink bathrobe.

"Taking you to breakfast," he smiled, handing her the flowers. "I got these for you."

"Thanks, Dean…" she smiled nervously. "But…I'm really busy today, so…"

Dean took a step through the door and kissed her. He stepped on something. He looked down and saw a pair of men's shoes, and looked back to her urgently. "Is someone here?"

"Dean…"

She tried to move in front of him to stop him, but he sidestepped her and walked quickly to the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway when he saw a man, asleep in her bed. He entered the living room again and stared at her resentfully.

"How could you do that to me?" he shouted. "After everything…"

"Dean, stop," she said quietly. "What do you want from me? It's not like you're my boyfriend…"

Her words hit him like a ton of bricks. His pain showed on his face.

"Dean…" she started. "I…"

"No, you're right," he said bitterly. "I'm not your boyfriend. I'm just another one of who knows how many guys you call when you want to fuck."

"No! It's not like that!" she cried.

Miley grabbed his arm as he stormed towards the door, but he shook her off. He slammed the door behind him, kicking the wall of the elevator as soon as the doors closed. He was cursing himself for being so stupid. Of course she didn't actually care about him; she could have any guy she wanted.

He tried to convince himself that he didn't care. He didn't have relationships. He could move on in a second. After the game tonight, he'd go out and do just that. But for now, he needed to clear his mind. He couldn't mess up at the game over a girl who didn't even care.


	8. Chapter 8

"Talk to me," Jordan said, sitting on the wooden bench next to Dean's locker.

They were the last two in the locker room after their night game; they had lost to the Eagles. Dean had been sluggishly tossing his stuff into his duffel bag; he couldn't stop thinking about that morning. He kept hoping he'd hear her ringtone play from his cell phone. He wanted to call her, but he didn't know what to say. He thought he'd been more to her than just a warm body; she'd become much more than that to him.

"About what?" Dean asked, not looking towards his friend.

"You tell me," Jordan replied. "Something's got you walking around here like a sad puppy. And I'd be willing to bet it has something to do with Miley."

Dean sighed, leaning back against his locker. He didn't think Jordan would be able to say anything that would make him feel better, but it would probably help to get it off his chest. "I went to go see her this morning…I thought I would surprise her and take her out to breakfast. And when I got there…she was with another guy."

"Ouch," Jordan cringed. "That must have been awkward."

"I mean, how could she do that?"

Jordan laughed. "Isn't that kind of a double standard? It's not like you haven't been with any other girls since you've met her."

Dean stared at him, seriously.

"Oh my God," his friend said, shocked. "Seriously? You haven't?"

"No," Dean shook his head. He felt like he should be embarrassed to admit this, but he wasn't.

"Man," Jordan sighed, looking at his friend sympathetically. "You're really falling for her, aren't you?"

"No," he replied defensively. He wasn't that kind of guy; he couldn't love her…could he?

"Dean, you can lie to yourself all you want, but you can't lie to me."

Dean didn't know what to say. Luckily, before he had to say anything, his cell phone rang. He recognized the ringtone instantly; it was Miley's.

He flipped his phone open quickly. "Miley?"

"No, it's Lilly."

"Oh, hi…" he replied, confused. "What's up?"

"Um, I'm at the hospital…Miley went to some party and the people she was with left her there…she tried to drive herself home, but…"

"She was high," Dean finished for her, imagining the worst in his head.

"Yeah. She got into an accident. She's gonna be okay and everything, she's just banged up, but I thought you would want to know…I thought maybe she would want you to be here," Lilly explained.

"She obviously didn't tell you about this morning."

"Yes, she did," she corrected him. "And I still think she would feel better if you were here."

"Thanks," he said, flipping his phone closed quickly and throwing his duffel bag over his shoulder. "I've…um, I've gotta go. She got in a car accident."

"Shit," Jordan replied, worried. "Do you want me to go with you?"

Dean shook his head, dazed. "No…I'll be okay. Thanks."

"Call me," his friend called after him as he bolted from the locker room to the player's parking lot.

The drive to the hospital was a blur, and he was amazed he didn't get a speeding ticket. He ran into the waiting room, where Lilly was waiting for him.

"Where is she?" he asked urgently.

"Room 114."

He sighed heavily. He needed to see her, but first he had to face the guilt that had been eating away at him the whole way there. "Lilly, was she…did she…is this because of me? This morning?"

She shook her head sympathetically. "No. I mean, she was really upset about it…but you know this would have happened eventually. She wasn't careful. It was only a matter of time."

He knew that, but it didn't make him feel any better. Apparently, Lilly could tell. She wrapped his arms around his neck, trying to comfort him.

"Are you doing okay?" he asked. He knew that she must be as worried as he was, if not more. The two girls had been best friends for a long time.

Lilly nodded. "I'm fine. Go."

Dean moved quickly down the hallway until he came to the room. He went in quietly. He was shocked by how small Miley looked in the hospital bed. Lilly wasn't kidding; she had a large gash on one arm, and the other was in a cast. She had some bruises here and there, but at least she was alive.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

She jumped a little. She must not have heard him come in. Her eyes widened when she saw him; she was obviously as uncomfortable as he was. "Yeah, I'm okay."

He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. He rocked back and forth, trying to take everything in, but the only thing he could hear was Jordan's words playing on repeat in his head: "You're really falling for her, aren't you?"

"Damn it, Miley!" he said suddenly, making her jump again. "How could you be so stupid? You're not invincible, you know. You could have died. You could have hurt someone! You are so out of control! You're going to kill yourself, do you realize that? You're going to kill yourself!"

"Why are you lecturing me?" she cried.

"Because I'm falling in love with you!" he shouted.

Miley's jaw dropped. "What?"

Dean closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He had not meant for that to come out; he had still been trying to convince himself it wasn't true. "Miley…I don't do relationships. I've never been that kind of guy. But with you…I don't know, it's different. How I feel about you actually scares me. And that's why I just have to step back before I fall any harder. I care about you so much, but I can't deal with all the drugs and partying. I can't worry about you every time I'm not with you. I thought I could save you…but only you can do that."

"I…" Miley started, but she was at a loss for words.

He interrupted her. "Look, I don't know how you feel about me, and I'm not asking you to tell me. But if you do think that maybe you want to be with me, too, please get some help. And even if you don't feel anything for me, if you're not going to do it for me…I hope maybe you'll do it for yourself."

He turned away from her and walked towards the door. He couldn't look her in the eyes. He'd never laid his heart on the line like that before, especially not when he wasn't certain he would get something in return.

"Okay."

Dean stopped in his tracks, turning around to face her. "Okay, what?"

"I'll go to rehab."

He gave her a weak smile. "Good. I'm glad."

"But not for you."

His heart dropped. He had known it was a long shot, but part of him was sure that they would be together. He turned to leave again, but her words stopped him before he could.

"For us."

"Really?" he asked hopefully, crossing towards her and sitting down on the side of the bed.

She nodded. "Remember when I said I felt like there was a part of me that was missing?"

"Yeah," he replied, not sure where she was going with it.

Miley touched his face softly and smiled. "Maybe it was you."

A huge grin spread across Dean's face, and he kissed her passionately. He held her tightly, and if he had anything to say about it, he was never going to let go.


End file.
